Bright and Blinding
by Luckynumber28
Summary: After suffering a traumatic humiliation, Marianne Buckner drops out of University months shy of graduation. She escapes to England where her older sister lives and tries to piece her life back together. Upon meeting the magnetic and passionate Pete Dunham, Marianne is given the chance to face her past and move on from heartbreak. (Female Matt Buckner re-imagining)
1. Escape Route

_**Trigger Warning: Mentions of sexual abuse**_

* * *

 **Boston College  
** **March 2005**

The dorm room was chilled in the early morning with the scent of instant coffee lingering in the air. Even though it was almost April, winter had once more crept up the northeast coast, frosting the windows of Boston College. With the warm weather they had enjoyed the past couple days, the facility had turned off the heat prematurely in the building. The past week had been sunny as May with students throwing Frisbees on the green lawn spreading out below her room. Catie had unsuccessfully tried to convince Marianne out into the warmth several times. Marianne had waved off her roommate with a pained smile, hands trembling as she packed her things. Once her roommate had left, she turned up her Dave Matthews CD as loud as she could to drown out her thoughts. The carnations Catie had bought to cheer her up were already wilting on the radiator by the window, petals dropping to the hardwood floor.

"Remind me never to buy gas station flowers again," Catie snorted as she sipped her coffee from a solo cup. She poked one of the drooping buds thoughtfully as Marianne watched her from a bundle of blankets. "You sure about all this?"

Marianne reached for a Kleenex and blew her nose. Pouring herself a dose of Dayquil, she threw it back like a shot and sighed. "I'm sure."

"But its only two months till graduation."

"I know."

"Did you talk to your counselor again?"

Marianne shook her stuffed head, her cold still raging after a week. "Don't need to."

Catie flexed her hands around the steaming cup and sank down into her desk chair. "I could really kill that guy."

Marianne rattled a weak chuckle. "How would you do it?"

"Vehicular manslaughter sounds good, doesn't it? Something about that word _slaughter..._ "

Pushing her mussed bangs off her forehead, Marianne gave a genuine laugh and settled into her blankets. "Catherine Kim, your father would have a conniption if you got blood on that brand new Range Rover he bought you."

Catie smirked and blinked up with her monolid, dark eyes, her skin flawless from her Korean mother's relentless beauty treatments she sent her only daughter. "Blood washes off."

Marianne pushed herself off the bed, her side of the room bare except for her pillow and quilts. Everything was ready to be shipped home later that day. Home. Marianne bit her bottom lip at the thought of that empty word. Her father was still in Kabul doing a story and wouldn't be back in the states for weeks.

"You talked to your dad yet?" Catie asked.

"His machine."

"Did you leave a message?"

Marianne shook her head as she duct taped the last box of books. "And say what? I'm dropping out for no apparent reason two months before graduation?"

"There is a reason and a good one." Catie downed the last of her coffee and strode to her friend's side. "Why don't you fight it?"

"Because it was consensual-"

"But you didn't consent to that asshole hiding in a closet and filming the whole thing! That's a violation, abuse even," Catie ranted.

Marianne was too weary from embarrassment and tears to react. She laid a hand on her friend's forearm. "I'm so glad you got that acceptance to Harvard Law. You were born to dominate a courtroom."

"That's beside the point." Catie waved her hand dismissively. "I wish you'd go to the school board about it."

Marianne didn't reply as she started to get dressed. She hadn't dared get near a computer since it had happened, much less the internet. She had been dating Justin for five months, her first real boyfriend and the first boy she had ever slept with. He was polite, charming and had lavishly treated her to expensive restaurants, theater tickets and the like. His family was wealthy and well established in the Boston area and he had been impressed with her father being the renowned international journalist. They were both looking for jobs in newspapers down in New York City. He had even hinted at getting an apartment together, even motioning towards diamond ring ads with a wry grin.

"Justin needs to be held accountable for what he did to you."

Marianne shook her head. "He wasn't the one filming in the closet or the one who put the video online."

"But he knew that creep friend of his was in there, doing just that while you two were having sex. He filmed you having sex without your consent, that's sick!" Catie protested, her nostrils flaring in disgust.

"He said it was only supposed to be for himself when we were apart and he never meant to humiliate me-"

"Humiliate you to the point where you drop out of school to escape the hecklers and rumors?"

Marianne blew her nose again, her heart thudding at the memory of the rumor mill spitting out conjectures. They were saying that she knew they were filming her and that she allowed them to post the video online, that she thought she was some kind of a Paris Hilton with her own sex tape. The Mari Buckner Porno had spread through the campus like a virus before anything could be done. Even the faculty knew about it. Her academic counselor had barely been able to look her in the eye when she had gone to him to talk about dropping out.

"So you are going to let them sling mud at you while Justin struts around like the big man on campus?"

"What he does is none of my concern."

Catie sighed. "Well, I'm glad you broke it off with that boy instead of forgiving him."

Marianne gripped the back of her desk chair. She had truly thought Justin McCrae had been the one. The trauma of what had happened had wiped her clean of her identity. She didn't know who she was anymore in the matter of a few weeks.

"So where are you going? Did you decide?"

Marianne tapped a thin finger on the plane ticket laying on the desk. Catie twirled it around and grinned. "Best choice you could have made. Did you talk to Shannon yet?"

"I called her yesterday."

"Good. I'm glad. You need your family around you now. A change of scenery will do you good then you can come back and finish when you are ready-" A knock at the door interrupted Catie.

She walked over to the door. Marianne kept her back to it as Catie spoke with a stranger. She turned to find Catie standing with a dozen roses and a stuffed teddy bear, her mouth pulled tight in anger.

"Justin?" Marianne asked weakly.

It had been the third attempt that week for him to apologize. All the other tries had gone unanswered. Silently, Catie walked over to the iced window and grunted as she opened it then tossed out the vase of flowers. There was a satisfying crash and Catie nodded, brushing off her hands. She picked up the bear and held it out over the sill for the same fate.

"Wait," Marianne rushed towards the window, the air biting as it slipped into the already cold room. She took the stuffed bear from her and straightened his plaid bowtie.

"You actually want that thing? Stuffed bears are so cheesy. All those Korean guys mom sets me up with on blind dates are obsessed with them, its ridiculous. Do I look twelve years old?"

Marianne grinned and glanced up at her friend. "You have skin like a baby's bottom. You're going to look like an adolescent until you're forty."

Catie crossed her arms over her chest and suppressed a grin. "Well... you are right about that, you have seen my mom after all."

Marianne tucked the bear under her arm, unsure why she had saved him from being tossed out the window. She tucked him into her leather carry on bag for her flight later that night. "Do you want me to send you anything from England? Maybe a couple Atomic Kitten and Sugababe CDs?"

Catie brightened at that prospect. Her enthusiasm for British pop girl bands was insatiable. "Yes please!"

Marianne was pretty certain her cold would be gone by the time she touched down in Heathrow the next day. However, the shame of the past couple weeks would no doubt be harder to leave behind, even after crossing the ocean.


	2. Jolly Old

As she had predicted, her congestion had magically evaporated by the time the pilot announced over the intercom they would be landing soon in London. Marianne had always felt a keen connection between her physical and mental health. If something was bothering her, she inevitably would catch a cold or suffer from a nasty case of heart burn. With Justin and the rest of the campus gossips safely a hundred thousand miles away, she was just another nameless sex tape on the internet along with all the other wannabe starlets from California.

Popping one last Dayquil for good measure, Marianne slung the strap to her leather bag across her chest and dragged her suitcase over to the bathroom in the baggage claim area. The mirror showed her sleepless night in her pallid skin and sunken, hazel eyes. Marianne turned up her the music on her blue Ipod Mini. It was a new album from a band called The Killers she had downloaded before leaving.

Cleansing her heart shaped face with a baby wipe, she smeared on tinted moisturizer and dabbed a layer of powder. After painting her slim lips with a coat of pink lip gloss, she fluffed her long, brunette layers over her shoulders and smoothed out her bangs. She hoped she didn't look as dead on the outside as she did within or else she'd never hear the end of it from Shannon.

Avoiding eye contact with an old woman leaving one of the stalls, she ducked out of the bathroom and wandered towards the exit. The designated smoking area outside the rotating doors was choked with nicotine. Marianne coughed into her fist and pulled out her map.

"Taxi?" A cab driver called to her from the bustling curb, smacking his gum and tipping his hat.

She had rarely taken taxis in Boston having always preferred the T. If she could find her way to the train station she could save Shannon the cab fare because she certainly didn't have the euros for it.

"No thank you," she replied with a wary smile before dragging her things in the direction she hoped was towards the train station. Thankfully she was correct.

The wheels of her suitcase bumped up the stairs of the station. Her head spun in the damp cold. Heart beating fast, she paused in front of a train schedule and studied the map that Catie had printed for her.

"Where you headed?"

Marianne jumped at the voice by her shoulder and turned to find a young man about her age. He pushed tangled hair from his forehead, heavy lidded and deep set eyes taking her in appreciatively. Shadows of old bruises marked his face as though he'd been in an accident.

"No offense but you look lost," he tried again when she didn't reply.

Marianne broke eye contact and peered back down at her map. "Here is where I need to be," she replied concisely and pointed to the neighborhood where her sister said she'd meet her.

"A Yank, eh?" He grinned after briefly looking at the map.

Marianne nodded silently, wary of strangers in a strange city. Something about the markings on his face made Marianne wonder if they had been from a fist fight instead of an accident.

"Well, from the looks of it, you're in luck." He pointed up to the board of rotating numbers over their heads. "10:00 AM. You've got fifteen minutes to get a ticket."

Marianne nodded her thanks and tried to roll away towards the ticket booth. Before she could grab her bag, the young man took the handle. "Please let me. It will be faster."

He paused after she gave him a hard stare, her face taut with worry. "Really, I'm fine-"

"I'm not being dodgy, don't worry. Just thought you looked knackered and could use some help. I'll just see you to your train." He gave a breathy laugh and held out a hand, the knuckles bruised and swollen. Perhaps he was a boxer. "I'm John Bovver."

Gingerly she shook his extended hand. "Marianne."

"So what are you doing here in Jolly Old?" he ventured tentatively as they walked towards the ticket counter.

"Jolly Old?" Marianne asked.

"England."

Marianne winced at the obviousness of it. The rough young man named Bovver only hid a grin. "I'm visiting family. My sister moved here a few years ago."

"That so?"

Taking the ticket, he followed her towards the platform. "She married a local."

He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked on his clean, white sneakers as they came to a stop. "Lots of you Yank girls hopping the pond for a man. That what you plannin' on doin'?"

Marianne scoffed. After everything she had gone through, a relationship was the farthest thing from her mind. "Can't say it's in the plan."

He rubbed the back of his neck and met her eyes again. "Just at the moment?"

The train pulled up the tracks with a piercing squeal. Marianne looked away with a shrug, unsure of how to answer his polite but persistent interest. She was too jet lagged and too emotionally drained to fend off any more well meant flirting. "Thank you for your help, John."

He handed the bag up to her as she stepped onto the train. "I'll be seeing you sometime maybe. I live around that area."

With a faint smile, Marianne escaped into the train car. The sad thing was that six months earlier, she would have bantered playfully with the guy. She didn't get a creepy feeling from him and he was definitely interested.

Tucking herself into a window seat and putting on her headphones, she drowned out her fears with the music. She tried not to think about the sheet of paper still in her backpack, her resume that she had been planning on sending to Rolling Stone Magazine. It would have been a shot in the dark with her coming right out of college, but she had never wanted to do anything more than music journalism.

Peering out the window as the train pulled away, she noticed John Bovver walking with his distinct, swinging strut towards the exit. Giving a quick glance towards her train over his shoulder, he disappeared from view. Part of her hoped she wouldn't run into him again so she wouldn't be forced to repeat the entire awkward episode.


	3. Avoidance

From the moment Shannon had handed him over at the entrance of the subway, Marianne hadn't put down her baby nephew. Skirting the broken glass from the decimated telephone booth that Shannon had brushed off as the result of over-exuberant soccer fans, Marianne hitched Ben on her hip as Shannon tucked her carry on bag in the stroller.

"He smells so good," Marianne laughed, the little boy playing with the heart locket on her necklace.

"Well I hope so, he got a bath before we came here. Had to look his best to meet Aunt Mari for the first time."

Ben rested his head against the crook of her neck and Marianne felt the burden of the past few weeks lift. Catie was right, she did need to be home and the only home she had for now was with her sister. Even though years had passed since they had seen each other, it felt as though they had returned to the night Shannon was getting ready for high school prom while Marianne swung her ten year old, chicken legs over the edge of her bed, flipping through her Seventeen magazines.

Marianne sank into a sweet weariness as she tucked her feet under her and hugged a throw pillow on Shannon's designer couch. The living room was tastefully decorated in a refined yet unstated style that mirrored what their mother would have done. Shannon smiled as she handed her a steaming mug of tea, Ben playing quietly in his play pen.

"He is such a good baby," Marianne commented.

"He reminds me of you actually. When you were little, I always heard that you were a much easier baby than I ever was," Shannon smirked, resting her neck into her hand. She had inherited their mother's defined cheek bones and catlike eyes. It made it a bit difficult to look at her especially when she laughed. She leaned forward and set her mug on a coaster. "So I have to ask, what's going on?"

Marianne hid a yawn. "You mean with school?

"Yes."

"Just wanted a little break. I needed to get away for a bit."

"Couldn't it have waited until May? I was planning on visiting for your graduation."

Avoiding her sister's probing look, Marianne waggled her fingers at Ben with a forced grin. "Its just kind of a long story, Shan. Honestly, I'm starting to feel the jet lag."

Shannon sat back with a sigh. "Okay but you aren't getting out of it. Especially since dad doesn't even know yet."

Marianne snorted and rubbed her raw eyes. Her head throbbed from a lack of sleep, her quickly bought middle seat in coach having offered little comfort on the transatlantic flight. "I tried."

"Oh I bet you did. I remember having a very close relationship with his voicemail back in college."

"Don't worry though, Shan," Marianne replied with a casual wave of her hand. She stood and stretched her stiff back. "I didn't knock over a bank and I'm not into drugs. I didn't even cheat on a test and get caught. I really just needed to get away."

With one last narrow eyed stare, Shannon nodded in defeat. "Alright then. I'll let it slide for now. Why don't you go up and take a quick power nap before dinner? I won't let you sleep too long though or else you'll never sleep tonight."

Marianne brushed a kiss on Ben's feathery blond head before swiftly ducking out of the room. She had to think about how to explain the whole thing to Shannon. Telling their father would be mortifying enough when it came to it.

The guest room where Shannon had put her was small but beautifully decorated like the rest of the house. The black bed frame was pushed up next to the single window overlooking the street below with a seat built under the glass panes. After changing into a comfortable pair of terry cloth pants and her Boston College t-shirt, she slipped under the beige sheets and dropped off quickly.

Shannon never needed to wake her. A loud banging on the door downstairs roused her from sleep. Rubbing her tangled hair from her face, she stumbled from the bed. The clock read that she had only slept for a half hour but perhaps that was best, however disoriented she felt. Slinging her arms into a burgundy cardigan, she ventured downstairs.

"Ay ay!" A male voice echoed obnoxiously through the downstairs.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she edged towards the kitchen. Shannon's husband stood at the entrance with Ben in his arms. She hadn't seen him since they had gotten married three years earlier. Though she hadn't made it to the wedding, they had stopped over for a quick visit in Boston before continuing on for their honeymoon in Mexico. Steve gave her a warm smile, still wearing his well fitted suit from work. He shifted Ben to his other arm as she gave him a side hug.

"Look who finally crossed the pond, eh? How you doin', love?" He asked congenially, though his tone was tight with apprehension.

"Fine, good to see you too."

Shannon stood stiffly by the kitchen island, her jaw clenched and gaze darting from the figure by the fridge then back to her sister. The tall stranger in the camel trench turned towards them, a beer in his hand. As he bit off the bottle cap, his eyes grazed over her with vague interest, his stare potent under dark eyebrows. With the jawline of an Abercrombie model and the swagger of a thousand frat boys Marianne had known in college, she immediately took a disliking to him.

"Mari, this is Steve's brother Pete. Pete, this is my sister, Marianne," Shannon gave the sparse introductions, her movements tense.

With the cap lodged in his cheek, he gave her a slick, half smile and held out his hand. "So which is it then?"

"Which is what?"

"The name? Shannon said Mari but also Marianne, so which is it?" He held her hand a moment longer than necessary. "Annie then?"

"Marianne is fine," she replied soberly, releasing his hand.

With his booming voice and abrasive manner, he seemed determined to make himself the center of attention. He was so different from Justin whose subtlety was what drew her to him in the first place. He was always in control and never had to throw his weight around, not like this guy. As Pete nodded while withdrawing a step, she got the distinct impression that he had sized her up as much as she had him. He tossed the cap in the trash bin before turning his brother.

"Hey Ben!" He crowed, leaning towards the baby. Shannon ran a hand over her face as he grasped the child's hand. "West Ham till I die! West Ham till I die, I know I am, I'm sure I am-"

Shannon stepped forward and took her son from her husband. "I'm taking him to bed."

Pete Dunham watched her with a smug grin as though getting rid of Shannon was his plan all along. Still woozy from her rude awakening, Marianne had taken all she could handle. Without saying anything more, she followed her sister.

"Nice to meeting yah, my colonial cousin!" Pete called out after them. Marianne didn't answer.

Once they were saftly at the landing of the stairs, Pete's obnoxious crow reverberating up towards them, Shannon turned towards her. "I know he is my brother-in-law-"

"But he's an ass," Marianne finished the sentence for her. "Yeah I got the impression."

"And he runs with a rough crowd."

Shannon led her into Ben's nursery, the walls decorated with prints from Peter Rabbit. Marianne sat down in the white rocking chair by the window while Shannon set Ben down on the changing table and pulled out a new diaper.

"Gets some drinks in, get some drinks in!" Sounded from downstairs.

"Where does this guy think he is? A fraternity house?" Marianne asked, crossing her legs and leaning back in the chair.

"No, he just treats my home like its the local pub. It's because he hates me."

Marianne snorted. "Why?"

Rolling up the dirty diaper and tossing it in the can by the door, Shannon sighed. "Because he thinks I'm the reason why Steve doesn't go with their crowd anymore."

"The rough crowd you were talking about?"

"Exactly."

"What kind of crowd is it?"

Shannon hitched Ben on her hip and walked him towards the crib. "The football crowd."

"You mean soccer."

"Don't let them hear you call it that. It's football and they are obsessed on a scary level. Steve used to be into it but he doesn't go all out anymore."

The front door slammed closed downstairs. Marianne rose to her feet and pulled back the sheer curtain, peeking down into the street. "What is it? Some kind of cult?"

"Might as well be."

Pete Dunham came into view, strutting down the sidewalk in the same manner the guy Bovver had sported. They even wore the same clean white sneakers. Pete glanced up towards the window as he lit a cigarette. Spotting her, he blew out a mouthful of smoke and gave her a wink but it didn't feel flirtatious. The smart ass sneer that followed confirmed that fact.

"I can't believe he's Steve's brother. Steve is kind of standoffish but he's so nice." Marianne shook her head as she turned back to her sister.

Shannon bit her lower lip as she held Ben's hand where he lay in the crib. "I hate to ask this on your first night here."

"What is it?"

She sighed. "Steve likes to be spontaneous. He bought theater tickets to go see 'Chicago' since I mentioned that I'd really like to go sometime. He just sprung this on me while you were sleeping and I said I'd talk to you first."

Marianne braced her hands on the edge of the crib. "Do you need a babysitter?"

"No, no! Of course not, I wouldn't ask you to do that. He's already arranged one. Would you mind if we went tonight? You could sleep or order out food? There is a TV in the guest room so you wouldn't have to feel awkward around the sitter. Do you mind?"

"Of course not," Marianne replied with a smile, secretly relieved at having one more night to avoid anymore questions about her escape from Boston. "I'll go wander a bit, pick up something for dinner and then come back and crash."

"You sure you'll be okay?"

"Of course, I've been living in Boston for a couple years now. I'm street smart, don't worry."

Shannon snorted. "Alright then, thanks Mari."

After changing into a fresh pair of jeans with a blue turtle neck and her black coat, she went downstairs. Steve forced a good bit of cash on her, insisting that he would do the same for her as he did for Pete. Shannon rolled her eyes behind his back as they both realized why Pete had dropped by in the first place; begging for money from his brother. Accepting it begrudgingly and giving him another hug, she trotted out into the gray afternoon.

Feeling more at ease than she had that morning after a good nap and establishing a home base with Shannon, Marianne trotted towards the subway station. The fresh feeling of anonymity in a new city left her breathless with freedom. After days of ducking her head and avoiding the stares of fellow students, being in a place where no one knew what the Mari Buckner Porno was made her feel exhilarated. She felt the impulse to explore a little.

The echoing underground was glaringly bright under the buzz of the fluorescence. The floor clicking under her ankle boots, Marianne gripped her purse in front of her body. She came to a stop in front of the "Mind the Gap" warning lining the ledge to the tracks. The cars pulled up just as she got there. Glancing to her left, her heart dropped as she noticed a familiar figure boarding the same train as her. Avoiding eye contact with Pete Dunham, she melted into the crowd and kept her head down.


	4. Lost

Commuters packed into car like sardines in a tin. Marianne clung to a pole, not daring to look over her shoulder where Pete had taken a seat. She wondered how long she would have to ride on that line till she could get off without being noticed. Tapping her fingers on the yellow metal, she returned a friendly nod from an older woman knitting by the window. Relaxing a little, she didn't notice the shift in passengers behind her as they made their first stop.

"There, love, take a seat." She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see that Pete Dunham was offering her his place. His eyes widened as he recognized her. Giving a guffaw, he ran a hand over his shaved head. "Marianne called Mari is it? They kick you out already?"

Shrinking from his close proximity in the cramped car, Marianne trained her eyes forward. "They're going out on a date."

Pete scoffed. "Ain't that typical. Well, take the seat then."

"I'm fine."

The train gave a strong jolt and she fell sideways into him. She didn't have the chance to collect herself before he had moved her over to the seat. Gracelessly, she tumbled back into it.

"Yeah, you look like you're doin' fine."

He stood by the pole next to her, facing outwards and studying the crowd. Marianne crossed her arms over her chest and turned her body away, hoping he would get the hint that she wasn't interested in small talk. He didn't.

"So what are you doing out here anyway? Shouldn't you be going for a spa day with your sis or whatever it is you birds like to do?"

Marianne hugged her purse to her body. "They had plans."

"Plans?"

"Date night."

"So what does that leave you to do? Ride around on the Tube by yourself?"

The lady with the knitting gave her an inquisitive look as though asking if she was okay. Marianne smiled quietly and looked down at her chipped manicure. "Just looking for somewhere to eat."

"Personally, I think you look like you could use a drink," he commented, his tone dropping as he leaned towards her. "I'm heading over to a local place you might like, unless you were sticking to the tourist route."

Marianne stiffened. "I'm fine."

"Right. Sorry, I forgot." Pete snickered. "Oh well. Have fun then, Yank."

With that, he trotted off the train as it came to a stop. Marianne let out her breath and avoided watching him disappear around the corner as the subway car started again. Putting in her headphones, she got off at the next stop. She had no idea where she was as she emerged into a light drizzle. Studying the street, she found that she was less exuberant than before she had run into Pete Dunham. Keeping her eyes to her feet, she strode down the sidewalk until the drizzle turned to a heavier rain. She turned a corner and spied a shabby Cyber Cafe.

As she emerged into the warm air of the small cafe humming with the drone of a dozen PCs, she wandered towards the coffee bar and ordered an Americano. Steaming cup in hand, she slid behind a free monitor and decided to conquer her fear of the internet while she waited for the rain to clear. The chances of her seeing anything about the video were slim to none. She wouldn't check her MySpace page or the underground gossip site for BC students where most of the rumors were swelling. Catie had said it would probably be forgotten in a matter of weeks but Marianne knew it would take much longer for her.

Pulling up her email on Yahoo, she perused the numerous spam advertisements that gummed up her mailbox after neglecting it for so long. Towards the top, sent the day before she'd left, there was an unopened file with the subject box bearing a single word. _Sorry_. Marianne's stomach lurched as she read the sender. JmcRae83, Justin's handle. Pushing away from the desk, she sucked in a lungful of air. The nearby patrons glanced at her curiously before turning back to their monitors.

Gathering her nerve, she pulled the rolling chair towards the computer once more. She tapped her fingers rapidly on the mouse before taking the dive and clicking the email open.

 _Please contact me. I can't let it end like this. This wasn't my fault. I wish you'd believe me._

 _Justin_

Marianne clicked the delete button then purged her trash bin. Downing her coffee, she rushed from the cafe like it was on fire. Thankfully the rain had abated though the sky was still a heavy gray. The weight of his words weighed her down as she walked, her steps jerky. She wished she had Catie with her to tell her that she had done the right thing. She needed to cut all communication with him or else risk further contamination. Even reading that email had made her feel dirty. Perhaps Pete was right, maybe she did need a drink.

Losing herself in Regina Spektor's album 'Soviet Kitsch', she pulled out one of her ear buds and looked around only to realize she was miserably lost. Cars lined both sides of a street with uniform buildings looming overhead. With a nervous clip to her step, she crossed the road and walked down towards a corner pub. An array of benches sat outside it, a scattering of people milling around them with plastic cups of beer in their fists.

"Excuse me," she called out tentatively as she approached the pub. "I'm sorry but-"

"Marianne?"

A young man rose from a bench and tossed his cigarette to the ground. An inquisitive smile tugged at John Bovver's thin lips as he sauntered towards her. Marianne stashed her headphones in her purse, trying not to feel pleased at seeing a familiar face. She reminded herself she barely knew him.

"I made it to my sister's alright," she said with a short laugh.

"Did yah? Then what are you doing all the way out here?"

She shrugged. "Just taking a walk."

"All alone?" He frowned. "Now I'm not tryin' to be your dad or nothin' but that might not be such a good idea later on. It's football day around here and things can get pretty dodgy."

"Yeah I heard but actually-" she winced up at him. "I think I'm lost."

"Again? Marianne, c'mon now," he replied playfully. "I don't think I caught your last name."

"Buckner."

"Can I buy you a beer and then help get you pointed in the right direction?"

Marianne cocked her head to the side, the sounds of laughter escaping from the pub as the door opened. Perhaps it would do her some good to be around people right then, forget about the email and what she was going to tell her sister. She nodded.

"Yeah, I guess that sounds good."

Bovver snorted. "You just guess? I can go with that. C'mon then. I'll introduce you to some other blokes. Don't usually like outsiders but I think we can make an exception."


	5. Pub

A murky film of smoke coated the air above the room, illuminated by the watery light flooding the pub windows. Despite being permeated with the smell of cigarettes and stale beer, the place was fairly neat. A large bar made from dark wood and a series of benches down the rectangular room gleamed from a fresh waxing. It was busy for the middle of the afternoon though none of the voices were raised in inebriated fervor.

Keeping her head down, Marianne followed Bovver to the back of the pub. The farthest corner of red cushioned benches were occupied by a group of rowdy young men, a set of three tables pulled up between them. A series of pints and pitchers filled with frothing beer scattered the surfaces. The excited talk slowly faded as she came into view behind Bovver.

"Ay ay," Bovver smirked as he shook hands with one of the guys, the others staring at her like she had suddenly grown another head.

"Who's this now? Not like you to bring someone around, Bov," the one with the cheeky grin said as he held out a hand towards her. "Swill."

Marianne gave his hand a quick shake with a fleeting smile. "Mari."

"Just ran into her outside and invited her in for a beer," Bovver explained dourly before proceeding to introduce the other characters at the table.

"Pull up a seat, Mari." The dark haired one named Dave gestured to a red leather stool across from him. "Now how do you two know each other?"

"Go way back." Bovver shrugged, taking a seat at the end of the table and tossing her a clandestine wink.

Marianne tucked her hair behind her ears and glanced down at her lap. "Since nine o'clock this morning at least."

Swill snorted as he poured her a glass of beer. "This morning?"

"I was trying to figure out the train schedule to get to here from Heathrow. I just flew in from Boston today."

A hand landed firmly on her shoulder as she brought the beer to her lips. Marianne choked on her sip as she gazed up into Pete Dunham's wry grin that didn't reach his eyes. He arched a dark eyebrow.

"Well isn't this a small world, Marianne called Mari." Pete sank into the chair next to her, keeping his eyes on Bovver as he lit a cigarette. "How do you know Shannon's sister, Bov?"

Bovver's gaze danced between them in surprise as the waitress brought over a tray of shots. Marianne took one gratefully as Dave offered it, throwing it back to quell her nerves. She needed some liquid fortification to survive this kind of surprise.

Bovver leaned towards her over the table. "You're Shannon's sister?"

Marianne coughed as the liquor burned her throat. "Yes, last I checked. I didn't know you two were friends."

"Me n' Bov? Yeah, been friends for years," Pete replied dryly, leaning back in his seat. He gave her a chilly grin. "Now we can all be friends, eh?"

Thankfully, the conversation took a gregarious turn into the semantics of cockney slang which they informed her of in detail. Marianne finished off her first beer quickly, the liquor numbing the awkwardness she had felt upon entering the pub. Pete ignored her for the most part, though she could hardly blame him. After a while, it didn't bother her as she struggled to keep up with Swill's lightening quick questions about Boston.

Bovver smacked Mike over the head when he had jokingly called her a Septic Tank, the cockney word for Yank. Red faced, he apologized as he twisted the wedding band his hand. From what she could tell, Mike was the only one married.

"You planning on taking this girl to the match today?" Dave asked Bovver.

Bov shot Pete an inquisitive glance before turning towards Marianne. "I wasn't sure if she'd be interested."

"Interested in what?" she asked.

"Football."

"Soccer, gentlemen. Remember with our little Septic Tank here," Pete crowed, earning a chorus of hoots at the jab. Bovver's expression drew tight and Pete gave a charming smile. "Sorry, I mean Yank. No offense, love."

Marianne ignored him. "There is a football match today?"

"Would you like to come?" Bovver asked her, lighting another cigarette.

She could sense Pete tense next to her as he downed the last of his beer. With a quick glance in his direction, she caught a quickly concealed frown. If anything, it made her want to go even more, despite not knowing anything about the sport. With muted surprise, she realized that they had been sitting there for nearly two hours and she hadn't thought once about the video or Justin. It was the first time she had been truly free from thoughts of them. She wanted to lose herself a little more.

"I would love to, if you have an extra ticket," she replied with a flicker of a grin towards Bovver, feeling a little of her old self come to the surface.

As the time for the match drew closer, the gathering in the bar grew bigger and rowdier. They were finally evicted from their seats to make room for more standing room. The only thing Marianne could compare the scene to were pep rallies in high school or the bars in Southie before a Red Sox game. The crowd swelled from liquor and anticipation, Marianne and the other boys packed by the bar as Bovver and another fan stood on a nearby table to lead the crowd in cheers.

Her blood heated from the liquor and senses pleasantly fuzzy, Swill and Dave shot out commentary with their heavy slang while simultaneously trying to explain themselves. Pete hovered behind them, one ear on the conversation while hooting out the cheers with gusto. Someone threw a beer and suddenly Bovver and the other fan were drenched as the bar chanted the West Ham fight song.

Marianne slipped away to the ladies room before she got too wet. Rinsing some of the beer from the back of her head and reapplying her lip gloss, she smiled in the mirror, feeling more like herself than she had in weeks. Maybe it was the attention that the other boys smothered on her or Bovver's subtle flirting. Quite possibly it was just the copious amounts of alcohol. Whatever it was, Marianne was thankful for an afternoon to forget about everything she had run from back in Boston.

"Excuse me-" she blurted as she nearly hit another body with the door as she walked back out into the pub.

"Marianne called Mari, come here a second." Pete pushed the door closed behind her and pulled her by the elbow into a quiet corner. He peered down, putting his entire focus on her for the first time that night. "I don't think this is a good idea for you to come to the match."

Marianne scoffed. "Why is that?"

"Because these things can get a little rough sometimes and I don't want you to get hurt. I have my brother and Shannon to think about and so do you."

With a smirk, Marianne tried to move past him, the alcohol in her system making her brazen. "I think you're just being an arrogant ass because I didn't want to get a drink with you earlier. To be honest, I think you're an arrogant ass a lot of the time."

Pete let out a mirthless bark of a laughter. "Fine. It's your skin. You in the mood for a little danger, Yank, go ahead. I won't stop you."

"What's that supposed to be?" She sneered up at him venomously. "A threat?"

"No, just a warning. But I won't be the one to explain to your sister if anything happens. You go right ahead, darling." With that he strode away from the heated conversation into the crowd.

Marianne wrapped her arms around her torso and looked after him. Bovver stumbled towards her, the worse for the liquor as well. He gave her a grin, eyes blurry and doused in beer. "We're about ready to leave. You ready, Yank?"

It was too late to back out now, not after her exchange with Pete. She would lose face if she didn't go. After all, she'd survived Boston the year before when they'd won the World Series and that had been crazy enough. This was merely a common soccer match, nothing special from what she could tell in the conversation with the other boys.

Marianne shrugged. "I'll get my coat."

Bovver gave her elbow a squeeze as he passed towards the mens room. "Sounds good."

Strutting past Pete where he stood paying his tab at the bar, she felt his eyes on her as she moved towards Dave and Swill. Her sister had been more than right, Pete Dunham was an ass of colossal proportions.


End file.
